by John Clare (1793 - 1864)

Oh, says the linnet, if I sing
Language: English 
Oh, says the linnet, if I sing,
My love forsook me in the spring
and nevermore will I be seen
without my satin gown of green.
Oh, says the pretty featered jay,
Now my love is gone away
And foro the memory of my dear
A feather of each sort I'll wear.
Oh, says the rook and eke the crow,
The reason why in black we go
Because our love has us forsook,
So pity us poor crow and rook!
Oh, says the pretty speckled thrush
That changes its note from bush to bush,
My love has left me here alone,
I fear she never will return.

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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-01-08
Line count: 16
Word count: 107